Long Nights
by Bekquai
Summary: SLASH! Percy returns to Hogwarts as a Ministry-intalled guidance counselor in order to protect the students. However, he has some unfinished business to take care of with Neville...
1. Backstory

WARNING: THIS FIC IS SLASH!!! M/M RELATIONSHIP AHEAD! Mild, of course (I'll wade into the limes and lemons later on, right now I'm just testing the waters) but if you don't like this sort of thing, then please leave. Flames are pointless and unnecessary.  
  
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter and associated entities. I am not J. K. Rowling. I have no money, and am not making any from this li'l bit of writing, so please don't sue me.  
  
  
  
  
Long Nights  
  
by Bekquai  
  
  
Prologue: Moonkist  
  
  
  
  
The throbbing, magically enhanced beat pounded in Percy's ears as he watched the ebb and flow of people in the Great Hall. He brooded in his seat, wondering why on earth Mr. Crouch had wanted him to come to this ball. He disliked the press of moving bodies all around him, but he found himself envying and being intimidated by the people all at once. He daren't show it, though, lest someone noticed his vulnerability and chose to prey on him like they always had before.  
  
*No reason to be envious now. I've graduated; I've a job with the Ministry. I'm self-sufficient. I don't need their approval anymore.* he said to himself.  
  
He may as well have been talking to a wall for all the effect his mental pep-talk had. There were just too many familiar faces around here. He knew almost everyone, and certain individuals stood out more, such as Cedric Diggory, the closest thing he'd had to a friend when he was in school. Cedric didn't notice him, though, as he danced with that Cho girl. Others saw him though, but only a few came to ask him why he was there. They were surprised at his presence, and not altogether pleased with it. Of course they were polite, but he could tell how they drew back as quickly as possible.  
  
*God, I feel like I'm thirteen again.*  
  
He'd never been popular, and his classmates had always teased him and made fun of him. They weren't intentionally cruel, but it may have been the fact that they said things so casually that stung Percy the most. Uptight. That's what they called him. He pressed his lips together in a frown. He disagreed with the word. He wasn't uptight, he was just serious and organized. Nothing wrong with that. So he didn't like to set off dung bombs in Potions, or gallivant around saving the school, like his brothers. So what?  
  
He'd been an outcast in the Hogwarts society to start with. There was no reason to think it would change now, just because he had a job.   
  
He fidgeted in his chair, wishing for a friendly face. He found himself longing for Penelope, but stopped when he realized what he was doing. He was still hurt, that she had left him. She hadn't even bothered to break up with him in person, she'd just sent him an owl saying she ran off to Istanbul with a vampire slayer. Guess she finally decided that "serious and organized" wasn't her type. Still, he missed her comforting presence, which had shielded him from so much of the loneliness...  
  
Yet a part of him was relieved that she was gone. She wasn't his girlfriend anymore. No more awkward conversations or long boring letters. He felt guilty, though, about his relief. She had, after all, been the first and only girl to notice him. She was very kind, very sweet, but their courtship went awry almost from the get-go. Everything had been so... formal. Passionless. It had seemed that everything they did was for the sake of keeping up appearances and not for any real affectionate reason.   
  
He was a bit upset that he never found her physically attractive. He knew she was pretty, but he never found himself wanting her, desiring her. Every touch had been sort of like a Muggle machine's movement, devoid of feeling. Every kiss had left him wondering when it would all just click into place, or ~if~ it would. They were both frustrated by the time Penelope left. Percy didn't really blame her. He'd felt suffocated, stifled, as if someone had shoved him into a cupboard and locked the door like the Slytherin upperclassmen did until he was made a prefect. He felt helpless, fearful, because he couldn't end the relationship by himself. He hadn't wanted to hurt Penelope, hadn't had the guts to stop what was happening himself. So it had fallen to her to break it off.  
  
Release was sweet, but he still was afraid.  
  
He frowned harder and grit his teeth. He had a headache from the music - he didn't like hard rock - and he was getting claustrophobic. He stood, straightened his dark blue robe, and started to maneuver his way to the entrance hall. Eventually he made it out into the rose garden. The cold air quickly bit through his clothes to his skin, but it was a welcome change from the overheated indoors.  
  
The conjured garden was quite beautiful, what with the fairies flitting about, casting their glow on lightly-frosted rose blooms, making them sparkle and shimmer. The moonlight added to the wonder, turning everything to spun sugar and glass. He could hear couples' noises from all around, and quickly made his way to the outer rim of the garden. Usually, it would be the most busy place, but in this weather no one wanted to be so far away from the warmth of the castle. It would be the perfect place to go for some private thought.  
  
Percy looked up at the crystal clear sky studded with stars, and sighed gustily, his breath leaving in a cloud that fogged his glasses. He was nearing the edge of the rose garden when he heard the first sniffle. He paused, listening. There it was again, followed by a soft, muffled sob. It came from behind the taller hedge to his left. Curious, he crept up and looked around the corner.  
  
A semi-plump figure of middle height stood with his back to the path, his shoulders shaking. Small gulping noises and sobs filled the chill air, and Percy felt a pang of empathy. This was his brother's classmate, Neville. The boy had often come to Percy when he had still gone to school, and so he, Percy, knew that their situations were quiet similar. Both were not part of the group within their house. Both were ridiculed by those outside of their house. Both had difficult childhoods, though for different reasons. Yes, Percy felt the same pain Neville felt. He knew he couldn't leave without at least trying to comfort the younger boy.  
  
He walked up to Neville, taking a handkerchief out of his pocket. He silently offered it to him, and Neville took it, murmuring thanks before he jumped, startled. He turned to look up at Percy with wide, sad eyes, his face stricken with embarrassment. Percy gave what he hoped was a comforting smile.  
  
"P-Percy?" Neville said in a quavering voice as he dashed his tears away. "What are you doing here?"  
  
"I was just walking and I heard you... And well, I thought you might like some - er - company, or something..." Percy said, his haughty air leaving him in mere moments. Neville had always had that effect on him. The boy was too like him, so earnest that Percy didn't have the heart to act superior to him.   
  
"Oh. W-well..." Neville trailed off, his face darkening perceptibly even in the dim light of the moon. "I-I'm all right..."  
  
"D'you... wanna talk about it?"  
  
The younger Gryffindor shook his head mutely.  
  
"Weren't you dancing with Ginny earlier?" Percy asked, recalling glimpsing his younger sister on the dance floor.  
  
"Yeah... She went back to the tower a while ago," Neville said, sniffling.  
  
"Is that what's got you down?" Percy asked, hoping he wasn't being too forward.  
  
Neville shook his head. "No... it's just that... I feel so..."  
  
The redhead felt his heart swell, his own emotions echoed in the lost look on the other's round face.  
  
"Lonely," he finished, though he hadn't meant to say it out loud. Neville nodded and seemed to fold in on himself, biting his lip with his eyes squeezed shut.  
  
Percy cleared his throat after a moment's silence. "You know... you ~can~ cry... if you want. I won't tell anyone."  
  
Neville's lower lip quivered, and his thick, girlish eyelashes shimmered with unshed tears. Then, quite suddenly, he threw himself at the redhead, wrapping his arms around Percy's neck as he wept quietly into his shoulder. Taken aback, the Weasley boy dazedly put his arms around him, not knowing what else to do.   
  
"It's just.. it's just - she's really pretty- and, and I like her - but she - and I - I can't - and I'm so scared!" Neville stammered between soft sobs. "It's not fair! Why can't I just - just -"  
  
"Just what?" Percy asked before he thought. Half fear and half hope warred withing him. He didn't want to hear the boy say it, but he knew that he ~had~ to hear it. If he was wrong, if this wasn't what he thought it was - He just had to know.  
  
"Just - just be like a n-normal boy!" Neville almost whispered. "Just be able to - like a girl, really ~like~ her. To not think ~things~ - about the others..."  
  
He trailed off, and stiffened against Percy, as if he was afraid he'd said too much.  
  
*He has... Oh God, he has...*  
  
It seemed to fit now, why the other boys had been awkward around him. He could see it clearly now, and the wanting had been there too. But he didn't admit it, he hadn't wanted to see it. Easier to pretend some reason than to face the truth about himself. And Neville, unpretentious and honest as ever, had realized what the difference was right away. He'd unsuspectingly triggered this revelation, this overwhelming understanding in Percy's mind.  
  
"I-it's all right, Neville," Percy told him in a hushed voice, much shaken. "It's all right."  
  
"But it's ~not~!" Neville whispered back, pushing away from Percy's chest but not pulling out of his arms. He looked up at him, tears sliding and shining down his face. "It's not all right, because - If they ~knew~ -"  
  
"It hurts to have a secret," Percy heard himself say gently, and he found that he meant it. "I know."  
  
"You..." Neville trailed off, surprise making his liquid eyes wide. Percy realized how warm the boy's body was against his, how different from the cold all around them.  
  
Then Percy found himself kissing him, and he felt the startled gasp against his lips. He himself was equally   
  
*What am I ~doing~? Have I gone ~mad~? What will he do? What if I misread everything? He's ~Ron's~ age, for Christ's sake!*  
  
But despite his jumbled thoughts, he was aware of the sweet rush filling him. Neville was kissing him back now, and it was like nothing else. His hands traveled up to caress Neville's tear-streaked cheeks; he felt hands in his hair, holding him against the younger boy's lips. His heart pounded in his chest, his cheeks were flushed as their mouths worked tenderly, if inexperiencedly.  
  
*This isn't like kissing Penelope...*  
  
Finally, they broke apart, panting for breath. Percy was shocked at himself, and felt the first tinge of guilt around the corners of his mind.   
  
*What have I done?*  
  
Neville gazed up at him uncertainly. It was like looking into a mirror of his own emotions. Confusion and want was so plainly written on the short boy's face it made Percy ache. They'd have to sort this out, somehow...  
  
"Is... that all right with you?" Percy asked softly, still cupping one of Neville's cheeks in his hand.  
  
"Yeah," Neville replied a bit breathlessly.  
  
"Good," Percy said, heaving a sigh of relief. He smiled suddenly, feeling light-hearted for the first time in a long time. "Feel better now?"  
  
Neville smiled as well, though it was a little wavery around the edges. "Yes."  
  
"D'you - d'you want to go inside and get a cup of hot chocolate with me?" Percy asked quickly.  
  
The smile on Neville's gentle face firmed. "All right."  
  
Percy lead the way, and Neville slipped his soft, almost girlish hand in Percy's long-fingered one. The tall lad gave it a reassuring squeeze, and they walked unnoticed back into the warmth and noise of the castle.  
  
  
  
  
END .....???  
  
  
  
  
^^;; Dunno if I wanna make this a series or not. What do y'all think? Can it be done? Review and let me know! 


	2. 1

Author's Note: Yeah, well, I'm enamored of Percy and Neville now. I've got to write about them. ^^;; I dunno how long this'll take...  
  
Note: This is a continuation of "Moonkist." You might want to read that before this. Sorry it took so long to write! My Journalism class takes up so much of my writing time... le sigh. It might be a while between chapters, too.   
  
Disclaimer: Don't own Harry Potter, I'm not J.K. Rowling, and I have no money so suing is pointless.   
  
  
  
  
Long Nights  
A Percy and Neville Romance  
By Bekquai  
  
  
  
  
Prologue: A Chance for Advancement  
  
  
  
  
Percy figeted in the uncofortable waiting-room chair, trying to find a position that didn't make his legs go numb. It was a futile struggle, and he soon gave up in favor of worring about the upcoming meeting. Even though his former boss's disappearance had been explained, no one was sure of what to do with Percy. Mr. Crouch's replacement had brought her own secretary, so Percy's old job was filled.  
  
Fudge himself was going to talk to him. He didn't know why the Minister of Magic was getting involved with personel matters, but he hoped it was a sign that he wasn't going to be laid off. His job meant everything to him, after family, and he didn't want to even think about getting fired. His parents had reluctantly accepted his contributions to the family bank account; without the money Percy made, the family would be swamped with debts. As it was, they could barely afford to put the twins, Ron, and Ginny through one more year at Hogwarts.  
  
"Mr. Weasley?" the receptionist witch called from behind her desk. Percy looked up expectanly. "Mr. Fudge will see you now."  
  
"Thank you," he said as he stood, straightening his robe. He crossed briskly to the door to the inner office and opened it.  
  
Cornelius Fudge sat in a large leather chair, heels kicked up and crossed on the huge mahogany desk that was littered with paperwork. He puffed a cigar, the tobacco smoke filling the air.  
  
"Ah, there you are, m'boy! Come in, come in," the Minister urged, waving a hand at Percy. "Shut the door."  
  
The redhead obeyed, and then sat in the smaller leather chair in front of the desk. Fudge took his feet off the desk and rearranged himself in his seat. He after he took the stogie from his mouth, he smiled condecendingly.  
  
"Do you know why I called you here?" Fudge asked as he tapped his cigar on the rim of an ashtray.  
  
"To assign me a new job?" Percy guessed.  
  
"Right in one. You have noticed by now that you aren't very useful in the Foreign Affairs arena at the moment, right? Well I have a special assignment for you. Have to keep you busy, don't we?" the older man chuckled, then took a long drag from the cigar.  
  
"Yes, I suppose so, sir," Percy agreed, trying to stifle his impatience.  
  
Fudge blew some smoke rings before continuing. "You are aware of the - incident last year at the Triwizard Cup cometition, are you not?"  
  
"Yes, sir," Percy said, a trickle of trepidation sneaking into his mind.  
  
"Well, we leaders of the Ministry think that it would be wise to have someone from the Ministry at Hogwarts this term. To keep an eye on things, you see. The situation last year might've been avoided completely if a suitable Ministry agent had been there to spot things out," Fudge said with a perfectly straight face. "Dumbledore may be an excellent headmaster, but he obviously missed a few things."  
  
Percy dropped his gaze, and his hands clenched into fists. He wanted to point out that if Dumbledore didn't notice something, then no one else could have. He held his peace, though. Nothing would be gained by antagonizing his superiors.  
  
"Anyway, we want you to be the Ministry's eyes and ears at Hogwarts. You know most of the students, have siblings in three different age groups, and you were well-respected by the staff. You'd be perfect for the job. Not to mention that you excel at writing reports. I particularly enjoyed your discourse on cauldron imports," Fudge went on with another smile.  
  
"Thank you, sir," he said, his ears turning pink. *And everyone thought I was wasting my time.* he thought with excusable smugness.  
  
"Dumbledore has agreed to this plan of action. You are gauranteed your own quarters in the school, a place at the High Table, and a considerable raise in salary," Fudge said, taking a slip of parchment and scrawling on it with a quill. He pushed it towards Percy, who picked it up. He did a double-take when he saw how many sickles per hour he'd receive.  
  
*I could triple the amount I give to Mum and Dad...* he thought dazedly.  
  
"What would I have have to do once I get to Hogwarts?" he asked after gulping once.  
  
Fudge's smile widened. He knew he had the young man hooked.  
  
"Find out anything happening at Hogwarts, anything big enough that will concern more than just the school. I don't want lists of homework assignments or Quidditch games. If you hear anything about You-Know-Who, Dumbledore's plans, or Harry Potter's exploits, I want you to write it down and send it to me straight away," he said, puffing his cigar quickly.  
  
Percy nodded vaguely, his mind busy calculating. He consided what it would mean to go back to Hogwarts. He'd be back where he belonged. Hogwarts was his element; he knew all the ropes. The students... they could be a stumbling block. For the most part, they thought he was a "nark" and totally uncool. Winning their trust would be difficult. The teachers he could handle, but he found it unlikely that they would leak Dumbledore's top secret plans.  
  
"But won't it look a bit suspicious?" Percy asked. "I mean, the Ministry has never had a representative at Hogwarts before. Won't everyone know that I'm essentially a spy?"  
  
"Ah, that's the beauty of it! You see, our Muggle Research team has found the perfect disguise for you. You see, some Muggle schools have a similar position. They're essentially spies for the government, too, and they masquerade as inoffensive and genuine helpers."  
  
"Really?" Percy asked. He'd taken Muggle Studies, but they had never mentioned this particular occupation. "What are they called?"  
  
"'Guidance counselors,'" Fudge replied. "Very ingenious of the Muggles, really.  
  
"You won't be the only one, of course," he continued. "There will be two for each house at Hogwarts. We're recruiting them as we speak. What do you say, lad? Want to join up?"  
  
Percy nibbled at the inside of his lower lip. It wouldn't be an easy task... but it ~was~ an awful lot of galleons a month... and there was someone at Hogwarts he really should talk to...  
  
"I'll do it," he said at last. "When do I start?  
  
"An owl will be along in a few days to give you the contract and specifics. I usually don't handle these matters, so I'm afraid I can't tell you much more than that," Fudge said sheepishly.  
  
"I understand. Is that all, sir?"  
  
"Yes, yes. You may go, Mr. Weasely," Fudge dismissed him with a wave of his cigar.   
  
Percy walked out of the office and into the main hall of the Ministry building in a deep thoughtful mood. He would be going back to Hogwarts to stay a whole year. It would be different from his short visits last year, different from even his school years. He'd have to face the students everyday, face their scorn for him all over again, and hope that his new status as a Ministry official would be enough to shield him. And then there was Neville...  
  
He felt guilty about last year, about what happened at the Yule Ball. It hadn't been fair to Neville. He felt he'd taken advantage of the boy in a very vulnerable moment. And then, with everything so hectic for the next few months, Percy hadn't been able to even write to him. When everything was sorted out, Percy hadn't known ~what~ to write. They were hardly very close, and he didn't know what to say to him.  
  
Now he'd have to face him... and see what came of it.  
  
  
  
  
  
Three weeks after his interview, Percy arrived in Hogsmeade. It was August 31, the day before the students were to arrive at the school, and his Apparation went uncommented upon. The people of Hogsmeade were used to teachers returning for the start of term, and were themselves preparing their shops for the influx of student revenue. Shipments were being received all over the town. A huge truck with the Bertie Bott's logo on it was parked in front of Honeydukes, and in the window of Zonko's an elderly man was setting up a display of dungbombs and Filibuster fireworks. Bolts of the finest fabrics were lined up on the boardwalk in front of Gladrags, a frantic-looking witch instructing burly movers to set them inside.  
  
Percy smiled. The excitement in the air was catching. He'd planned to get a coach, but it was a gorgeous day. He started to walk towards the Hogwarts road at a jaunty pace. His magically-lightened trunk floated obediently behind him as he made his way past the busy storefronts. Just as he passed Honeydukes, he heard someone shout.  
  
"Percy? Percy Weasley?"  
  
Percy turned around, and found himself face to face with Oliver Wood. Surprise registered across both their faces. Then Oliver grinned heartily, offering his hand. Percy returned both gestures with uncertainty.  
  
"Good to see you, Perce! Been a while, hasn't it?" Oliver said, pumping Percy's hand.  
  
"Since graduation," Percy replied with a nod. "What brings you here?"  
  
"Oh, I'm working at Hogwarts this year. I'm going to be a guidance counselor for Gryffindor," Oliver said, finally releasing Percy. The redhead's fingers were numb, and he flexed them to try and get some feeling back. "Say, are you going to be the other one?"  
  
"Yes, I am," Percy said.  
  
"Great! It'll be like old times! Just think of the Quidditch games, Perce!"  
  
"Yeah, great," Percy said without much enthusiasm.  
  
"We've got a lot of catching up to do. Wanna walk up to the school with me?" Oliver offered.  
  
Seeing no polite way to avoid this, and being a bit curious about how Oliver was doing, Percy agreed.   
  
"So, where've you been keeping yourself?" Oliver asked as he trotted jauntily beside him.  
  
"Oh, around," Percy replied with a vague shrug. "I was working in Foreign Affairs last year."  
  
Oliver's eyes widened. "Did you work with Crouch?"  
  
Percy, who had never approved of referring to his former boss without the "Mr." in front, just nodded. "But I wasn't really involved in any of the Tri-Wizard Tournament mess. I was just an executive assistant."  
  
"You were a secretary, huh?" Oliver said, and Percy frowned.   
  
"What have you been doing lately, Oliver?" the redhead asked, changing the subject rather pointedly.  
  
"Oh, this and that. I tried out for a few Quidditch teams, but they haven't gotten back to me yet. So I took this job to make ends meet, ya know? Gotta pay rent somehow," he said. "Good thing about this is that I won't even have to worry about rent until next summer! And by then I'm sure some of those teams will have come 'round and have me drafted."  
  
It was refreshing to be around someone so utterly self-assured, Percy decided. He let the other young man handled most of the conversation and basked in the glow of companionship. He wasn't certain how long Oliver would be this chummy - it was bound to fade as soon as someone more interesting came along - but he was willing to enjoy it for the time being.  
  
They arrived at Hogwarts shortly, and found themselves surrounded by house elves as they entered the main hall. The busy little creatures were hard at work buffing the marble floor until it shone and dusting ~everything~. One stood out like a sore thumb, wearing a plethora of mis-matched and just plain ~odd~ clothing. He seemed to be just standing about, which for a house elf was tantamount to a felony. Then he spotted Oliver and Percy stepping carefully across the floor, so as not to scuff the polished stone.  
  
"Dobby sent to fetch you!" the house elf shouted, running towards them. "Headmaster Dumbledore sent Dobby to fetch all you new people!"  
  
"Oh. You're Dobby?" Oliver asked, eyeing the tea-cosy on the elf's head.  
  
"Yes, sir! Dobby take you to see the Headmaster! Follow!" commanded Dobby, then spun on his heel and began to walk away. Seeing that they didn't have much choice, Oliver and Percy followed. They paused when house elves swarmed around their trunks, forcing them to break off the levitating charms so the bulky objects could supposably be hauled off to their new quarters.  
  
It felt nice to be back in Hogwarts. Percy inhaled the unique scent of the school. It smelled full of history, books, musty carpeting, the tang of magic. There was also an excitement to the air, a feeling of pleasant anticipation, as if the very stones the castle was built from were waiting to welcome masses of students back through its ancient doors. Or maybe it was just wishful thinking on Percy's part. Either way, it was comforting.  
  
At any rate, Dobby took them unerringly to Dumbledore's office. He stood on his rainbow-socked tip-toes to whisper a password into the gargoyle's ear. It stepped aside a bit grudgingly, and Percy thought it looked a bit disgruntled at being disturbed. He wondered how many times it'd had to get up today. Dobby waved at them to go inside. Naturally they obliged.  
  
Dumbledore sat at his desk, which was piled high with stacks of parchment and paper, looking cheerful as ever. He looked up as Oliver and Percy walked in smiled benignly at them.  
  
"Hello, lads," he said and gestured at the chairs in front of his desk. "Please, make yourselves comfortable. Would either of you be interested in a ice-cold pumpkin juice?"  
  
"No, thank you," Percy said, just as Oliver said, "Yes, thanks."  
  
The elderly wizard poured a glass of juice and handed it to Oliver. As the athletic teenager began to sip the drink, Dumbledore spoke more seriously.  
  
"You already know your're to be guidance counselors. I already know that you're Ministry agents. I understand the Ministry's reasoning behind it, and I have no hard feelings. But before you start, I have a few things I'd like to clarify," he said calmly, steepling his long fingers. "There are to be no secrets between the counselors and the school. Everything you tell the Ministry, you must tell the staff here. It is only fair, especially if there is some sort of threat to the students or faculty. Understood?"  
  
"Yes, sir," the two youths chorused.  
  
"Good. Also, your snooping activities come second to your duties as a guidance counselor. That ~is~ what you were hired for, after all," Dumbledore said.  
  
"What ~are~ our duties, sir?" Oliver asked before Percy could. "They were mentioned in the letter, but it never said what they were exactly."  
  
"Your job mainly consists of listening to students who want to talk to you. You provide a sympathitic ear and any advice you feel would help the situation. Also, you may act as a tutor to students having difficulties. That wasn't part of the job description when we adapted it from the Muggles, but both Professor McGonagall and I feel it is most practical," the headmaster explained. "You just try to be generally helpful to the students in your house. Guide them. Counsel them. Pretty simple to remember, no?"  
  
"Indeed, sir," Percy said, then wanted to wince at how stuffy that sounded. Already he was troubled. He was no good at social relations. How could he guide and counsel anyone if he couldn't even have a decent conversation?  
  
"If you've no more questions, then I suggest you get settled in your rooms. Oh, speaking of which, you two will have to share rooms," Dumbledore said as Oliver finished off the glass of juice and Percy stood. "We figured it would be easier to discuss reports that way without all the running around back and forth. Besides, there was only one set of rooms near enough to Gryffindor Tower to be of any convenience to the students."  
  
"It's no problem, sir," Oliver assured him. "I've always wanted a flatmate."  
  
Percy wondered, * Whatever for? * But he didn't object as they moved towards the door.  
  
"Oh, one more thing, lads," Dumbledore called. They turned to look back at him. "I probably don't have to say this, but I will. I know that there is a strong rivalry between the houses, especially between yours and Slytherin. As school employees, you ~cannot~ favor one house over another and you must do what you can to prevent conflicts between houses. There is too much to worry about nowadays without wasting time on petty squabbles amongst ourselves. So please, gentlemen, act with discretion and set an example for your house."  
  
"Yes, sir," they agreed in tandem.   
  
"Now you may go," Dumbledore said with a wave of his hand and a grin. "And welcome back!"  
  
They exited without further adieu. Another house elf stood waiting for them, and they were both a little relieved to see it was wearing the normal teatowel toga of the Hogwarts elves.  
  
"Follow, sirs!" it implored them. "Bimu take you to your room, sirs!"  
  
The rooms were very near Gryffindor Tower; in fact, they were located directly across the hall from the portrait of the Fat Lady. A suit of impossible cast-iron armor stood in front of a curtain that would trap anyone trying to get past it in its many golden tassles. The elf told them the password - which was 'Schnitzle-heimer' for no apparent reason - and then departed with surprising rapidity.  
  
"Well, then, let's get unpacked," Oliver said. "Schnitzle-heimer."  
  
The cast-iron armor roused itself and stomped away. The curtain raised to reveal an oak door, which opened on its own accord. Oliver walked in, and Percy came after him. The door snapped shut as soon as he was through the threshold. Only a quick reflexive step saved him from a swatted backside. He glared over his glasses at the door, which gazed woodenly back at him.  
  
"Oi! Look at this place! It's ~nice~!" Oliver declared.  
  
Percy looked around and discovered that his companion was correct. The stone walls were inlaid with carved wooden borders near the ceiling and against the floor, with rich crimson and gold wall-hangings. The Gryffindor crest was mounted on the far wall above the large fireplace, which had three overstuffed armchairs and one overstuffed couch placed around it. On the same wall but at opposite corners were two doors. One had "Oliver Wood" enlaid in gold script, and the other had "Percy Weasley" inscribed in a similar manner. To the left was a sort of double-desk, each side with a matching comfy-looking chair. To the right was a table with three plain wooden chairs.  
  
Percy noticed a piece of parchment on the table, and he went to pick it up. It was a note from Professor McGonagall, explaining the living arrangements, how to change the password, and the like. He read it aloud to Oliver as his new partner examined the contents of the desk.  
  
"It says we're to use the prefect's bathroom. We have all the powers of a prefect, as far as disciplining students and such go. Oh, and I want to change the password right away," Percy said. Oliver looked at him and grinned crookedly.  
  
"What's wrong with 'Schnitzle-heimer'?" he teased.  
  
"If you don't know already, then I don't think I could tell you," Percy replied, hoping it came off as a proper light-hearted remark. Oliver didn't take offence, so he assumed it had.  
  
"What to you want to change it to?"  
  
"Umm... I hadn't given it that much thought."  
  
"Just let me know, else I'm likely to get strangled by those tassles out there."  
  
"All right. Erm... I'm going to go unpack my trunk," he said awkwardly, moving towards the door with his name on it. He didn't know why he was so nervous about living with Oliver; he'd roomed with ~all~ the boys in his class when he'd been here as a student. Maybe he was just used to his privacy now.  
  
His room was as nicely furnished as the main room. The fireplace was smaller here, but obviously opened off of the one in the living room. It made sense, he supposed, to have a single central fire than to have three separate small ones. There was a queen-sized four-poster bed complete with rich red velvet drapes and a heavy feather-down bedspread. A nightstand sat on the right side of the bed, and his trunk was placed on the floor at the foot. As he began pulling robes from his trunk and placing them in the wardrobe and chest of drawers, he sighed heavily. It was going to be a long - but hopefully not altogether unpleasant - year.  
  
  
  
TBC  
  
  
  
Review, por favor! (I had to learn Spanish in school, I may as well get some use out of it.) 


	3. 2

Author's Note: Here's chapter two. Yay.   
  
You know what I just realized? Neville and Percy are the two most purely British names I know of. Just a random observation courtesy of yours truly. ^_^;;;  
  
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter and all associated entities, and I make no money from this. I am poor, so please don't sue me. Also, this is SLASH. So, if you all don't like the idea of two people of the same gender being portrayed in romantic situations, I suggest you vacate the premises NOW.  
  
  
  
  
Chapter Two: September 1st  
  
  
  
The train hissed and grumbled to a stop in Hogsmeade on the evening of September 1, and Neville Longbottom got off it as soon as he could. He wasn't going to give Trevor any more chances to get lost in the chain of cars. The toad was entirely too slippery for its own good. He carried the box containing Trevor with him as he exited.  
  
He'd been lucky so far this trip - as in, Draco Malfoy and those huge goons hadn't molested him yet. Instead, he'd passed the day-long trip to Hogwarts with Seamus Finnigan and Dean Thomas, talking of Quidditch and learning about "football" and other boyish topics. He felt very glad about getting back to Hogwarts, away from his doddering Gran and the houseful of aging wizard relatives. He missed the hustle and bustle of school, though he'd rather die than admit it. Even with Snape and Malfoy and his own ineptness, he preferred to not be alone.  
  
"Neville!" shouted a voice from behind him. He turned to see Hermione, Ron, and Harry approaching. Hermione held Trevor in one hand. Neville felt his eyebrows raise and he looked inside the box to discover it empty. He groaned embarrassedly.  
  
"Lose something?" Hermione asked, not unkindly.  
  
"Yes," he replied with a sigh. He held out the open box. "I don't get it. How does he keep escaping?"  
  
"Maybe Trevor is really Houdini reincarnated," Harry suggested as Hermione put the fugitive toad back inside.  
  
"Who?" Ron and Neville asked at the same time.  
  
"Houdini. A Muggle who was really good at escaping things," Hermione said.   
  
"Oh. Er. I suppose it's possible," Neville said doubtfully. Then he noticed Hermione scrutinizing him. He blinked nervously. "What is it? Do I have something on my face?"  
  
"No," Hermione replied with a shake of her head. "It's just I couldn't help noticing. Have you lost weight?"  
  
"Yeah. My Gran had me on a diet over the summer, and my great-uncle put me to work out in the magic herb garden," he explained and felt himself blush. The results of the diet weren't very overt, but he was a bit thinner around the cheeks and middle, and his muscles in general had developed from long hours of tending the rambunctious and sometimes bloodthirsty foliage. Still, he hadn't expected anyone to notice. Of course, Hermione ~was~ the sharpest girl in school.  
  
"Well, you look good," she assured him with a smile. "Do you want to ride in our carriage on our way to the school?"  
  
"Sure," Neville agreed, surprised. Harry and Ron were, too, from the looks on their faces, but they offered no arguments.  
  
"What's this, Granger? Have you really sunk so low as to hit on ~Longbottom~?" drawled a depressingly familiar voice. Neville sighed with resignation as he turned to see Draco Malfoy standing a meter away with an intolerable smirk on his face. "Or, as he would more aptly be called, ~Wide~bottom."  
  
"Shut up, Malfoy," Harry snapped angrily, stepping forward to stand next to Neville. "It seems you've gotten over your case of hexmarks since the last time we saw you."  
  
Draco's eyes narrowed, and he bared his teeth in a sneer. "Ah, yes," he said in a deadly, cold voice. "We owe you lot a few turns for ~that~ incident. Don't we, boys?"  
  
Goyle and Crabbe grinned menacingly, and popped their knuckles. Ron and Hermione were suddenly at Harry's other side, and they glared right back at the three Slytherins. The air was thick with enmity as the rivals stood in frozen tableau. Neville glanced worriedly back and forth between them, wondering what incident they were talking about. He knew that he had to say something, and say it fast, because sooner or later someone was going to pull a wand and they'd ~all~ get in trouble. He mustered his courage and tugged on Harry's sleeve.  
  
"Come on, we'll miss the carriages," he said quietly. "Besides, they're not worth the effort. Let's go."  
  
Harry nodded slowly, not taking his eyes from Malfoy's. "Yeah, you're right. They're ~not~."  
  
Despite the relative weakness of the insult, Malfoy bristled at it. He jerked his head to one side, breaking the staring contest. The pale youth put his hands out as if to forestall Crabbe and Goyle from attacking. He looked down his nose at the four Gryffindors.  
  
"Lard-arse over there has a point. I don't want to get stuck sharing a carriage with a Mudblood like you, Granger, so we're going to leave," he said disdainfully. But he turned a glower on Harry once more,"But don't think this is over, Potter, because it's not by a long shot."  
  
With that, Malfoy stalked away stiff with anger and his henchmen lumbered behind him towards the line of horseless carriages that was forming. The quartet watched them go with wary and angry expressions.  
  
"That - bloody - ~bastard!~" Ron said suddenly, drawing Neville's attention. The youngest Weasely boy was red as a tomato in his ire. "I can't ~believe~ him!"  
  
"Ron, calm down. He didn't even insult your family or anything," Hermione tried to sooth him.  
  
"But he insulted ~you~! Don't you get tired of it?" Ron demanded.  
  
"No," Hermione replied serenely. "I don't let it get to me. 'Mudblood' isn't that insulting if you didn't grow up with it."  
  
"Yeah, right," Ron said sullenly, but he relaxed when she put a hand on his arm.   
  
"We really ~should~ get to a carriage," Harry announced after clearing his throat. "Come on, Ron. Don't let Malfoy ruin our first day of the term."  
  
Ron allowed himself to be cajoled into a bearable mood again, and they all clambered into a carriage, barely managing to latch the door before it started rolling up the road to the castle. On the way, they all talked of inconsequential things like the schedules and courses they had this year. While it was pleasant enough conversation, Neville couldn't help but feel out of place a bit, as he did within any group. He felt like the tight-knit friends were avoiding talking about something. He didn't begrudge them their secrets, but watching them made him feel the lack of close friends in his own social life. He sighed under his breath.  
  
When they arrived at the castle, they joined the noisy swarm of students clambering up the stone steps to the entrance. Neville basked in the throng of people, calling out "Hallo!" to people he knew and grinning happily. While living with his Gran and all his oddball relatives couldn't exactly be called calm, it got dull without anyone his own age to talk to.  
  
Everyone eventually filtered into the Great Hall and seated themselves at their respective house tables. Professor McGonagal wasted no time in ushering the new first-years in. The Sorting Hat carolled cheerfully, and though Neville forgot the words to the song almost as soon as he heard them, but the melody was catchy enough.  
  
"Anderson, Ginger," McGonagal called out, and the actual Sorting got underway.   
  
It was an unusually small class this year, each house gaining only a few new memebers, Griffindor receiving the most with nine. Still, everyone joined in the cheering, and when it died away, Dumbledore stood to make his welcoming speech.  
  
"Welcome, one and all, to Hogwarts!" he began. "We'll be quite busy this year, but I hope it will be a safe and enjoyable time. Before we start the feast, I'd like to introduce some new members of the staff.  
  
"As you all know, there are new distressing developements in the wizarding world. Voldemort has returned - "  
  
Neville and most of the other students gasped in reaction to the name.  
  
"- and we realize how upsetting this must be for young people. So, in order to help you cope with this problem or any others, we have recruited guidence counselors for you to talk to and confide in. They are here for you to have an adult to trust and lend an unbiased ear. They can also help you with your studies if you have trouble, or give advice if you want it. They may give it even if you ~don't~ want it," the headmaster explained with a little chuckle.  
  
"There are two counselors for each House," he went on, "and they are situated in rooms near their respective Houses. They can be reached at ~any~ time you feel the need to talk to them. Don't worry about waking them in the middle of the night. It's in their contracts, so they can't complain."  
  
The doors opened to reveal eight black-robed young adults. They were all more recent graduates; Neville recognized a few of them as being seventh-years from when he was a first- or second-year. Then he spotted a ~very~ familiar freckled face with a shock of neatly-combed red hair on top. He felt his jaw drop and his face heat as the new counselors walked to the main table. Percy walked right past him, and Neville tried to disappear as he did so. He couldn't help looking up at Percy's face, though, hoping for at least a glance of recognition, anything that meant he hadn't been forgotten or was now despised.   
  
However, Percy didn't even flick his gaze in Neville's direction. He marched purposefully, chest puffed out importantly, up to the high table and stood next to one of the eight new vacant chairs. Neville couldn't help but watch miserably. He vaguely heard Dumbldore introduce each counselor individually, but even when the speech ended and the food appeared on the tables, the teenager was still in shock.  
  
Percy was here at school. Percy Weasley was going to be a Gryffindor couselor. The thought repeated in Neville's mind like a taunt, dredging up anxiety he'd hoped to have left behind when he borded the Hogwarts Express at the end of last term. He recalled the Yule Ball and the wash of relief he'd felt when Percy hadn't been repelled by him. But then, afterwards, no word came from Percy. Despite the long conversation they had shared over hot chocolate, despite Neville's - too-high? - hopes of something more, nothing else was said or done. That had hurt. It proved once and for all that he was truly unlikable. Now he'd have to see Percy everyday for the rest of the school year.   
  
The rest of the evening went by like that. Neville ate very little, and while what he did eat probably was as delicious as Hogwarts food ever was, it tasted like cardboard to him. No one noticed. Seamus and Dean made a half-hearted attempt to get him to settle an argument they were having - they couldn't agree which was a better sport, Quidditch or football - but he just mumbled "I dunno," and they left him alone after that.  
  
When finally it was time to go to bed, Neville found himself too depressed to sleep. He brooded over the way Percy just walked by, as if he hadn't even seen him. A weak voice in his head suggested maybe Percy ~hadn't~ seen him, that he hadn't done it on purpose. That hope was squashed quickly and ruthlessly. He'd been stupid to harbor such feelings at all, much less retain them this long.  
  
He rolled onto his stomach and hugged his pillow.  
  
"I'm so stupid," he whispered into the cloth. "It was just one kiss. And a cup of hot chocolate. You'd think I was mourning the failure of a grand love affair or something. He didn't like me. He just... I dunno. Just kissed me. Didn't mean a thing to him."  
  
It took a while to acclimate himself to this new hopelessness, but he finally did. Then he fell asleep.  
  
  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
  
  
The first three weeks went by very slowly for Percy and Oliver and the other counselors. The students were all too shy or uncomfortable to come for help. But the older classes recalled a few of the younger counselors and treated them like friends rather than staff. The third week Oliver started to help with Quidditch practices, and his friendly demeanor broke the ice for the Gryffindor students. Oliver posted the password to his and Percy's rooms in the Gryffindor common room. Soon students began popping in for advice from Oliver or help on a homework assignment from Percy - the two young men had decided that arrangement would work better, given their respective talents.  
  
Somehow, even when he wasn't busy, Percy found himself putting off talking to Neville.   
  
"I really should talk to him," he muttered to himself several times. But, to tell the truth, he didn't know how. It would hardly look right for him to track Neville down when he was supposed to be attending to his duties. It would single the boy out, and people would wonder ~why~ the guidence counselor wanted a private word with him. That would put poor Neville in the spotlight for no real reason. Percy could just imagine what bullies in Slytherin would make of the situation.   
  
* Right, * he thought. * I'll have to wait until he comes to me. *  
  
Of course, this was easier said than done. Neville disappeared every time Percy went into the Gryffindor common room, and his name was never on the sign-up sheet for tutoring sessions. It didn't take a genius to realize Neville was avoiding him. He frowned as he thought that, looking over the sign up sheet for the next week before he set it down and picked up the book he'd begun reading last night.  
  
Did the boy hate him now? Was he ashamed? Was he... ~frightened~? The last question gave Percy a jolt. What if he'd scared Neville with that kiss? Had he been too forceful? Was he too old for Neville to feel comfortable with? Was Neville too young for ~Percy~ to be comfortable? Why was Pecry even still considering a relationship with the boy? It was bad enough that they were four years apart in age. But now that Percy was in a position of trust in the school, if he and Neville ever ~did~ have a relationship, it would be disastrous if anyone ever found out. Not only would he be taking advantage of a pupil, but a ~male~ pupil, which - in the eyes of the vast majority - would be ten times worse. His career would be ruined, not to mention Neville's life at school.  
  
Percy shook his head to clear his mind of these troublesome thoughts. He'd just have to set Neville straight, so to speak. When he actually got a chance to talk to him alone. Which wasn't looking very probable.  
  
*Arrg!* Percy thought, sick of the circular track his train of thought was stuck on. He sighed explosively and tried to concentrate on his book. It was a Muggle mystery novel. He'd been intrigued by the idea of finding the culprit of crimes without the use of truth potions and scrying spells. The amount of mental jogging actual Muggle detectives go through to solve a murder was arduous and painstaking. Percy tried to solve the crime himself, too, as he read, and he'd gotten quite good at it. He already had a suspect in this novel, and it certainly wasn't the butler who dunnit.  
  
Just when he was about to turn the page to reveal the culprit when the door to his and Oliver's room burst open. He jumped, startled, and whirled in his chair to see an ~extremely~ irate Snape storming in, a half-hidden black-robed form in tow. Percy stood as Snape began to bellow.  
  
"Weasley! You're supposed to be tutoring the students of Gryffindor, are you not?" he snapped.  
  
"I am, Professor," the redhead said with a nod, trying to get a good look at who exactly Snape had dragged in. The student, however, edged out of his line of sight. Still, knowing what he knew of the Gryffindor house class shedule and who in the fifth year class could anger Snape this much, he guessed with an unnerving mix of hope and dread who the student was.  
  
"So, why have you not taken note of Longbottom's dismal failures in my Potions class?" Snape demanded, thrusting Neville forward. "See what the idiot's done to himself?"  
  
Neville stood before Percy clutching his Potions textbook, a look of abject misery on his face and his eyes lowered. Percy could see now why he'd tried to stay out of sight. The fifteen-year-old was covered - presumably from head to toe, if the face and hands were any indication - in green and purple spots, stripes, and interesting geometric patterns. It looked as if he'd run afoul of a color-blind tatoo artist on acid.  
  
"Botched his Chameleon Potion," the teacher sneered in disgust. "Weasley, I know that you're an almost competent potion-maker. I ~insist~ that you tutor Longbottom. I won't have him disrupting my class any further. If his caudron is exploding, boiling over, or trying to crawl away, ~he's~ grown an extra limb. I can't be expected to advance the other students if I'm constantly trying to correct ~this~ one's mistakes."  
  
"I'd be happy to help," Percy said, hoping he didn't sound as nervous as he felt. He also felt a flare of anger at Snape for verbally abusing Nevillel. Still, the older man had a point, though Percy hated to admit it. Neville was notorious throughout the school for his lack of talent in Potions.  
  
Snape favored him with a scowl. "See that you do. You can start right now by teaching him the correct way to brew the Chameleon Potion."  
  
"Will that get rid of these - side-effects?" Percy asked as tactfully as he could, shooting Neville a sympathetic glance - which was wasted because the boy was still staring at the floor.  
  
The potions professor grinned nastily. "No. I'm afraid that the potion he already tested will have to simply work itself out of his system. Any further ingestion of the Chameleon potion would only lengthen the duration of the current effects. Good luck, Weasley. You'll need it."  
  
With that, Snape swept from the room. The door slammed behind him so quickly, though, that it whacked his rear. The affronted yelp the two heard through the door made up for the teacher's rudeness. Percy snickered, which caused Neville to glance up. They caught each other's eyes, and cracked up laughing. Granted, it was nervous laughter, but it was better than awkward silence.  
  
"Maybe it's time Oliver and I got that door fixed," Percy suggested lightly, when he'd regained the ability to speak. Neville gave a smile that was at once shy and sly and he shook his head. Percy chuckled. "You're right. That thing comes in useful, every now and again. But seriously, now. What happened in class?"  
  
Neville sighed, becoming embarrassed again. He shuffled his feet. "Well, we were working on the Chameleon Potion, like he said. Malfoy was throwing pickled snake tongues across the room at Harry, and I think about five fell into my cauldron. Then Crabbe and Goyle thought it would be funny if they tipped my cauldron onto me. Thus the - er - stripes and things."  
  
"Ah, I see. Well, let's get started. Open your book to the Chameleon Potion and tell me what ingredients we need. I'll get everything together," Percy suggested.  
  
"Percy," Neville began before Percy could bustle over to his supply cupboards. His tenative tone froze Percy in his tracks.  
  
"Yes?" the taller boy asked with a silent sigh.  
  
"About the Yule Ball... I... " Neville trailed off, ovbiously uncertain.  
  
"Neville, I'm so sorry that I didn't write you," Percy blurted out into the silence that followed. "I truly meant to, but after the whole mess with the Tri-Wizard Tournament, I was swamped. And after, I - I didn't know what to say anymore."  
  
"Oh. I, uh, I guess I see. I mean, I don't expect anything more from you," Neville said sofly, the green and purple on his face darkening. He frowned then. "Wait, I didn't mean that like it sounded. It's just... I understand why you didn't write."  
  
Percy resisted a sigh of relief. "Thank you. And of course you'll understand why we can't... um..."  
  
*God, I can't even ~say~ it now,* he thought at himself in disgust, but Neville was nodding.  
  
"I understand."  
  
"It's just that if someone found out, well, who knows what would come of it? I'd lose my job; you'd be teased relentlessly, maybe even physically attacked. It wouldn't work out," Percy explained uncertainly. He watched the younger boy closely, but he couldn't read the expression on Neville's face.  
  
"I understand," he repeated.  
  
"Good," Percy said with forced briskness. "Now, down to business. Please open your book and we'll begin."  
  
As Neville followed his instructions, Percy tried to convince himself that this was for the best. After all, there was nothing but objections to the idea that they could be together as a couple. It would be dangerous and unprofessional. Still, he couldn't shake the nagging sensation that he was making a mistake...  
  
  
  
  
TBC!  
  
  
Review, please! 


End file.
